


a question of (in)decency

by a_wonderingmind



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Episode: s03e03 Murder and Mozzarella, F/M, First Time, MFMM Smutuary, Phrack Fucking Friday, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, as is often the case, it returns!, pff, so not everything goes smoothly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29226993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_wonderingmind/pseuds/a_wonderingmind
Summary: “What are we toasting tonight then, Miss Fisher?”“I thought perhaps we could toast to new beginnings, if that’s alright with you, Jack?” The octave rise in her voice betrayed her uncharacteristic nervousness.“Certainly,” he replied, voice low, “and to being known?”A pff episode tag for 3x03 Murder and Mozzarella.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 19
Kudos: 58
Collections: Smutuary 2021





	a question of (in)decency

**Author's Note:**

> I find myself more nervous than I expected - I don't know why - but enjoy!

“... I guess we’ll have to make do with each other,”

He watched her fight a losing battle to keep a wide grin spreading across her face. 

He placed the bottle on the table and sat in what she had been steadfastly trying not to think of as his chair and smiled lopsidedly, almost shyly.

Motioning to the wine, he started, “From the Strano’s wine cellar; courtesy of the hostess,”

“How generous,” she replied, looking up at him, not expecting to be met with such a searing gaze. His eyes really were intense; she couldn’t work out what was beneath the storms.

Just then, Mr Butler appeared with two glasses.

“Anything else tonight, Miss?”

She shot another look at Jack, who merely smiled pleasantly back at her, eyes still searching. “No, thank you Mr B; that’ll be all,”

“Very good miss.”

*******

“What are we toasting tonight then, Miss Fisher?”

“I thought perhaps we could toast to new beginnings, if that’s alright with you, Jack?” The octave rise in her voice betrayed her uncharacteristic nervousness.

“Certainly,” he replied, voice low, “and to being known?”

She lifted the glass in acquisition, and he tipped the glass against hers, the clink filling the charged silence.

“Phryne,”

“Yes Jack?” she started, almost tripping over his measured speech.

“At Strano’s, I -- ” he started, but she cut him off.

“Jack, you don't need to tell me, whatever happened there, I -- ”

“I want to, Phryne.” He sighed. “Concetta offered me her hand last night. I thought long and hard about it, I did,” his gaze faltered, and he stared into his glass. “But I just found I couldn’t,” 

“You're a decent man, Jack, I find it hard to believe you would toy with someone like that,”

“Thank you. That means a lot,” he met her eyes again, and his mouth curled into a small self-deprecating smile. He looked… vulnerable.

“You know what she said? She said my heart was already taken. I find myself in a position where I cannot disagree; but for one minor quibble.”

She sucked in a breath.

“It wasn’t taken, Phryne, I gave it. Of my own volition. Can I entrust it to you?”

“Yes, Jack.” The answer rushed out of her without thought. Except of course she had thought about it; for longer than she might care to admit. She reached across and took his hand in hers.

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at commitment, but I think that’s what I want this,” she gestured between them, “to be. I want to try. Can I entrust mine to you, too?”

He simply nodded, sincerity in his eyes. 

She squeezed his hand, and he returned the gesture, one half of his mouth curling upwards into a small smile. He looked down at their joined hands.

“It may surprise you to hear, Miss Fisher, but I have indecent thoughts too,”

“Oh really, Inspector?” She arched an eyebrow at him. His smile had turned to a smirk and there was a wicked glint in his eye. _Oh_ , how delightful. She had the sudden urge to kiss it off him. So she did.

In one swift motion she lifted their hands out of the way and straddled his lap, running her fingers through the hairs on the nape of his neck and pressing her lips to his.

“Do tell,” she whispered, grinning, the mild shock she left on his face morphing into a confident grin.

“Well, I must admit this particular situation did cross my mind,” he smirked, hands resting on her waist, pad of his thumb circling close to the crease of her thigh.

“Really? What else?”

“I thought about doing this,” he said, enunciating the statement by reaching up and taking a breast in his hand, tracing the lower curve with a knuckle, suppressing a smirk when she shivered.

“And this,” he murmured, glancing up at her, checking in, and she sucked in a breath as he pressed soft kisses to her chest and the upper swell of her decolletage.

“Mmhm, Jack,” Phryne’s head lolled back and he took his chance.

“And,” he pressed his lips to the crook of her neck, “this,” he breathed, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down to where her nipple was straining against the black material, before he took it into his mouth between his lips. Phryne keened, pushing her core further into his lap, grinding against his cock, which was rapidly becoming interested in the situation.

“Ahh,” Phryne breathed, head falling forward, peppering her own kisses down the side of his face, before nibbling the top of his earlobe. He let out a strangled moan that reverberated through her chest, pulling back to look at her. 

She grinned mischievously. “I hadn’t thought about that,”

His eyes darkened. “What have you thought about, then, Miss Fisher?” Her honourific rolled off his tongue like a thousand dirty promises.

“I will admit,” she started, rolling the several prominent, _delicious_ fantasies she had of Jack around her brain before settling on just one, “there have been a few instances where I just wanted to have you up against the nearest wall,”

“Like this?” he growled, grabbing her thigh and surging off the chaise, stepping back until they hit the wall at the side of the parlour door.

Her blown pupils were all the conformation he needed. Her hands came back up to run through the short hairs at the nape of his neck and she crushed her lips to his. He returned the gesture, all clashing teeth and bruising kisses, nipping at her bottom lip and spearing his tongue into her mouth. She whimpered at the intrusion, and squirmed against him, rubbing her heat against the growing bulge in his crotch. It unfortunately pushed her silver fastening against his hip. He drew in a breath at the extra stimulation, but stilled.

“Ow,”

She looked at him in concern. “Jack?”

“Your brooch, that’s all,” he smiled bashfully. “It’s digging in,”

She flashed him a smile in return, then swiftly unhooked the accessory and threw it over his shoulder, where it landed on the loveseat. Her blouse fell open and he drew in a breath, taking in the plane of her chest under the black satin camisole. He tore his gaze away and met her eyes again, uncertainty still written across his face.

“Uh… can we move this upstairs?” he said to her slightly confused expression. “I’m not quite so inclined to exhibitionism,”

Her eyes sparkled, and she cupped his face with her hands. “Of course,” she breathed softly. “Though I don’t have any intention of moving,” she squeezed her legs around his torso to illustrate her point, pressing hard into the ridge of his cock, ankles digging into the globes of his arse.

That got him moving, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. Her hands gripped his hair as she pressed kisses all over his face and down his neck, nipping at his ear again and making him see stars. Somehow they got halfway up the stairs, where the hand not holding onto Phryne wormed its way between them, palming her breast in retaliation for whatever it was she was doing with her tongue and she groaned into his mouth, the vibrations shooting through him like a bolt of lightning.

“First on the left,” she whispered at the top of the stairs, before the words melted into a whimper, the friction between his waistcoat and her brassiere and his hand, which had now dipped below the fabric, just this side of too much.

They were barely in the room before Phryne used her weight to swing him around and press him up against the door, letting her legs down and running her hands over his shoulders, threading them underneath his jacket and pushing; a sleeve catching on his watch as he arched forward to help her, the length of their bodies pressed against each other, igniting a fire in him.

Vaguely, there was something straining in the back of his mind, something he needed to express, but it was fuzzy and obscured by the press of his back against the door and the push of Phryne up against him.

Her hands were working on his tie, and he kept his out of her way by sliding them up her shirt, rucking it up as he ghosted her curves under her camisole, tracing the underside of her breast through the silk. An involuntary moan sent shockwaves down his body, making his cock strain against his wool trousers. It was quickly becoming imperative to lose some layers.

Thankfully, Phryne’s hands had moved onto undoing the buttons of his waistcoat, and once done, diverted their attentions to the placket of his shirt and undoing the buttons there just as swiftly. He shrugged it off his shoulders, braces catching; and groaned as she ran a nail down to his navel. 

Jack used the opportunity to feel about for the hooks on her trousers, cursing his big hands and the delicate fastenings; and she acquiesced to his frustrated tugging, slipping out of each trouser leg and stepping even further into his space, bringing herself closer to him and squirming against his leg, seeking the delicious friction she needed. She was soaking through her underwear, sure she was leaving a patch on his trousers, but in that moment neither could bring themselves to care. She hooked a knee around his trunk, canting her hips and opening herself to him, trying to press ever closer. Jack took this as the invitation it was and started a slow journey up her leg, drawing intricate patterns all the way up the porcelain skin of her inner thigh. When he was met with the silken and sopping barrier of her tap pants, he let out a breath.

“Fuck, Phryne,”

Pushing them aside, he reached to circle her sensitised nub, vaguely aware of the throbbing between his own legs; but fully engrossed in tracing the ridges and valleys of her folds. He stroked languidly up and down her lips, teasing the edge of her entrance before dipping one exploratory finger inside. The gasp that it elicited emboldened him, and he pushed further in before withdrawing and pushing in again, and again, a second and then a third finger joined as she muffled a groan in the crook of his neck. It sent what was left of his blood determinedly south, and he became aware of her hand fumbling against his fly and brushing up against his head, which was already leaking precome. He could sense the pressure building at the base of his spine and he pushed his trousers down and reached behind to palm her arse and press another finger back into her, thumb lightly brushing her clit.

Her hands were back at his navel, one tugging at the drawstrings on his smalls and the other dipping down to follow the line of hair that continued below. She wrapped her fingers around his length and it electrified him; he couldn’t stop the moan that echoed throughout the whole room. She ground against him, a glorious double sensation of wet heat against his smalls and her fingers around him.

“Phryne, I haven’t - ” he started, but just then she pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, and whatever he wanted to say was subsumed into another drawn-out moan at the nibble at his earlobe. 

And in that moment it was all so _much_ ; her mouth suckling on his ear and her fluttering warmth around his fingers, her hand sliding down his torso and on his --

Oh.

His release shot out white hot, dampening his smalls, followed by an equally burning sense of shame. He had just come in his pants like a randy schoolboy, from only her touch. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

"Phryne, I - " he started, wanting somehow to excuse his ungentlemanly behavior (not that what they’d been doing before was particularly gentlemanly, his subconscious provided unhelpfully.) 

"My, Jack," she whispered. "I never knew you were so excitable,"

He refused to meet her eyes, although the shame was somewhat diminished by her easy acceptance of the situation.

His gaze practically burning a hole in the rug, he replied somewhat self-deprecatingly, “I’m afraid that might be it for a while,”

“What rot, Jack. You're only thirty-seven. And besides,” she grinned, lacing her fingers between his innocently and looking at him in a way that expressed the exact opposite, “there are perhaps some other fantasies still available to us,”

A thumb, swiped over his lips, gave him some idea as to what she might be hinting at, but he fixed her with a questioning gaze and waited for her to continue.

“I have wondered many a time what that quick-witted tongue of yours might do between my legs,”

His reply was almost a growl. “Would you like me to show you?”

Her breathy _yes_ was all the inducement he needed. He lunged, capturing the tendon in her neck between his teeth and trailing down her torso. His hands graced her hips, gripping her gently and stepping forward, closing the distance between them and the bed; lowering her gently when the back of her knees hit the side.

Directing the last of his embarrassment into tenderness, he held himself over her and stroked her cheek with care.

“Is this alright?”

She levelled an exasperated look at him, and to show him just how alright it was, she pulled him down onto her, hard, teeth clashing, biting on his lower lip.

He moaned into her mouth and her fingers bit into his back, just as he raised the other hand to palm her breast again, kneading as she arched up into him. He ran a finger over her distended nipple, which was visible through her shirt, and she sucked in a breath. He smirked. Time for this black lace contraption, beautiful as it was, to go.

He pressed kisses down her sternum, silently thanking whatever gods were listening that the only fastening had been that brooch as he pushed it off and motioned for her to thread her arms out; she did, and he pushed the camisole up, continuing his trail of kisses right down to her navel, then down her thigh, feeling her trembling and taut under his lips.

Grasping her thighs, he looked up at her, checking in, and she was propped up on her elbow, head thrown back in pleasure. He followed the line of her other arm down her body… where she was running a finger through her folds, circling her nub. He couldn’t look away.

“God, Phryne, fuck,”

Her head snapped up. “You like to watch, Jack?”

He went a deep shade of tomato red.

“We could try that another time if you want - you watching me, perhaps me watching you?”

He held the idea in his mind for a second, and realised he wasn’t as adverse to the thought as he’d expected.

“I’d like to try it,”

“Good to know. Though if you’d like to get back to the task at… ahem… hand, I would be much obliged.”

“Yes, m’lady,” he smirked, which prompted her to surge up to try and grab his head to direct it, but he was already on the way and nudged her hand out of the way. 

He pressed his lips to the sopping wet silk, kissing and nuzzling at her core with his nose. 

Continuing to lick his way up to her pleasure point, he rumbled against it - “ God, Phryne, you’re so wet. How are you still so composed?” 

He could almost hear the desperation in her tone. “Jack, please,”

Looking up at her, her eyes were strained, pupils blown wide, lipstick eaten off and hair wild. She hadn’t ever looked so beautiful as in this moment.

So he dove back in, licking and sucking, listening to the groans and mewls he elicited, repeating the circular motion he made which made her breath catch. He hooked one finger and pulled the strip of fabric aside, only for her to pull downwards instead and shed the garment entirely. Presented with her glistening folds, he licked a stripe up and palmed her mons, letting his thumb play with her pearl as he speared into her with his tongue, eliciting another groan that reverberated through him and went straight to his cock, which was becoming… ah, interested, in the situation again. 

As he started up a rhythm, fingers counterpoint at the top of her cunt to his tongue in her core, hearing her panting and occasional mewling speed up and grow shorter. Her hands tugging at the hair on the top of his head was additional confirmation that she was enjoying this as much as he was.

“Jaaack,” she breathed, “I’m so close,” 

He blew a short breath of air across her heated flesh, and she shuddered. He started to blow another breath, but she interrupted the gust by removing a hand from his head and summarily taking his; placing it where his tongue had been a moment ago and pushing down on his middle finger.

“Deeper, Jack,” 

“Begging, are we now, Miss Fisher?” he smirked.

She shot him a sarcastic glance, though it fell just short and landed somewhere between loving exasperation and desperation.

He obligingly plunged a finger in, and he could feel her quivering around him, quite suddenly hardening in response.

“Phryne,” he murmured against her skin, feeling the whimper reverberate through her arched torso, “if you want, I might be, ah, ready, sooner than I thought,” 

She took a moment to register what he said, but he could see the moment she did, an almost predatory grin spreading across her face, before it rather unexpectedly dropped.

“Damn,”

“What?”

“I don’t have my diaphragm in; it’s still in the drawer,” She huffed, the short gust of air being more endearing than it has any right to be in this situation, “I’m so close, Jack.” It was almost a whimper.

“Later, then,” he whispered, drawing his finger slowly back out, crooking his finger slightly and marvelling at how she keened, bottom lip caught in her teeth to muffle the sound.

He curled his finger into her walls, trying to find the spot on Phryne that had always made Rosie fly… ah, there it was, and he pressed gently up against it, rewarded with a gush of moisture on his palm and almost a scream from Phryne, who muffled it by biting into his shoulder.

“Jack,” she panted, “need you..”

“Come for me, Phryne; I want to see your face when you come,”

It was his voice in combination with another thrust of his fingers that did it; she tumbled over the edge, sparks racing up and down her spine, and she swore she saw stars. 

Returning to her body a minute or so later, she looked over at Jack, who had an expression so open and soft it could only be described as smitten.

Normally, that would be a sign that it was time to let them go gently; but this was different - she was only just beginning. If the expression she knew was on her own face was anything to go by, they would be looking at each other like this for a long time to come. Speaking of a long time... 

“How would you feel about later being very soon, Jack?”

He looked at her quizzically for a moment, and then the penny dropped. A slight blush crept up his ears.

“I’ve thought about how you might feel inside me for a while, Inspector; don’t get shy on me now,”

He coughed gruffly, another feeble attempt to hide the small part of bashful constable that still hid deep in his soul that was exceedingly uncomfortable with such verbal attentions directed at him.

“So, ah, which drawer?”

Now it was Phryne’s turn to look quizzical. “In the top one, on the left,”

He turned and started to rummage, holding up the clamshell case and meeting her eyes for confirmation. She nodded. 

“May I help?” 

“- Why?” 

He looked up, mild surprise on his face at the interjection. “... or watch, if that’s too much? I just thought since I was going to benefit from its use, the least I could do is not be ignorant,”

Phryne’s eyes softened. “My darling Jack. You’re the first to ask, is all,” 

He stared at her, then at the device, with mild disbelief. Phryne reached over him and got the spermicide gel out of the still open drawer, sitting back on her haunches to show him how to spread the gel around the rim, caressing his hands while guiding his fingers to “pinch just here, that’s right,” and admire the earnest concentration on his face as he inserted the device.

He dragged a finger against her inner walls as he drew his finger out and she shuddered. His playful grin told her he knew exactly what he was doing and so in retaliation she palmed his cock, still at half mast, and he drew in a sharp breath. He shot her a look that was probably meant to be fondly chastising, but it only encouraged her. She stroked up and down his shaft a couple of times, passing over the head with her thumb as it lengthened in her hand.

“Beautiful,” she whispered.

He didn’t have time to blush at that, because she had fastened her lips over his and was pushing him back into the doona and straddling him, rubbing her core up against his now fully erect cock. His escaping moan was easily swallowed by her bruising kisses, her hands running all over his chest, before she sat up slightly and positioned herself over him; she looked him in the eye, and he nodded, reaching down to direct his cock as she speared herself on him. The groan that escaped her as he filled her was one of the most sinful things he had ever heard and he wanted to hear it until the day he died. She was exquisite, and it took all of his willpower not to spend in that first moment of contact.

But then she started to move and he had to close his eyes against the onslaught of sensation that shot up his spine and he inadvertently bucked up, knocking a breath out of her.

“Sorry,” he panted, “I - ”

The rest of his apology was cut off by a searing kiss.

“Fuck me, Jack, fuck yourself on me,” she gasped. He didn’t need telling twice.

He soared up, setting a fast paced rhythm, wresting a groan from his chest and quickly bringing himself close to the edge.

When she reached between her legs to help herself along, he knew he was a goner - one, two, three more thrusts and his climax went roaring through him, wringing him out as he spilled and spilled; Phryne quivering around him squeezing him of every last drop. He could feel she was getting close as well, so he reached up and took a breast in one hand and ran a thumb over her sensitive nipple; through his post orgasmic haze he could hear her grunting and groaning, straining for release as she ground down on his pubis. He gathered himself enough to haul himself up and replace the circling thumb with his lips, taking it in his mouth and nipping gently, humming against the reddened skin.

“Don’t stop, Jack, please, I - ” He moved his face, pressing open mouthed kisses and hums against her sternum, luxuriating in the return vibrations. “Oh Jack, yes - yes, Jack, don't, oh, oh - _ah!_

Her head fell to his shoulder as the last of her climax fluttered around his softening cock and he turned them to the side, slipping out of her. Phryne immediately turned and snuggled into his chest, a sated smile curling the edges of her mouth as she pressed languid kisses to his chest.

The arm above her head curled round and began to stroke through her hair; she purred softly at the gentle touch.

“Mmmhm. Don’t stop, please,” she sighed.

So he didn’t, not until he heard her breathing deepen into a peaceful slumber, at which point he let his eyes slip closed too, peace seeping into his bones.

*******

Mr Butler entered the parlour the next morning to nothing out of place except two nearly full wine glasses and a brooch on the loveseat. He glanced out to the hall, where a coat and brown fedora hung exactly where he had placed them last night.

He collected up what little tidying there was and brought it to the kitchen, smiling.

Everything was returned to its right place.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be just a quick bit of smut to celebrate the return of phrack fucking fridays and the beginning of this year's Smutuary, but then it turned into four thousand words :eye roll: Poor Jack (and I) were having trouble with Phryne's shirt, and then they just wouldn't stop touching each other! What can you do XD
> 
> Many thanks to Allison Wonderland for setting Smutuary up, and to the Island for the constant encouragement!


End file.
